


Warmth

by ActuallyAndroid



Category: April Was a Fool (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, kent being jealous, rewritten a lot, should actually be a decent read now lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyAndroid/pseuds/ActuallyAndroid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cold of the North wasn't enough to chill you when the blaze in his eyes was brighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

Months after the adventure between you and Kent had finished and your studies had ended, you were both together, living in a house his father had told his subjects to build upon finding out his beloved son had entered the dating scene.

There was a lot of tension at first, because the only person beside himself Kent blamed for the death of the UN was his father. Conversations were initated reluctantly, and Kent spent the first week completely avoiding him for the most part. The ice had thawed eventually, however, because the differences in his father's nature when he was berserk and when he was not were in no way insignificant. When not under the influence of his more intense nature, much like Kent himself, his father otherwise wanted only to conserve the peace, and it showed in his welcoming nature and the bright smile that always marked his bearded face.

At the end of the week that marked your arrival, Kent's father looked at his son, telling him that in exchange for such a beautiful house he expected lots of grand-kids, and with a wink and a nudge left you and Kent with the awkward looks and consequences of the comment.

“Don't listen to him,” Kent said, blushing profusely, and his father laughed haphazardly and pat you on the back so roughly you had felt your organs shifting about beneath your chest. He was much more pleasant than your assumptions had made him out to be. Sure, he was crass and you had not witnessed his berserker tendencies in action (not that you wanted to) but he was charming in a traditional and family-oriented way. It was welcoming and warm as opposed to the constant snow and frost on the trees and on the windows you could see when there was a fire flickering in your small little house: the promise of another cosy winter night against the warm arms of your lover.

It had looked to be another one of those nights when you came home from a part-time job at a bar you personally felt obliged to get – despite the fact Kent assured you many times that his father could provide for both of you – and came home to see him sitting on the bedside, eyes turned towards your face.

“Where were you?” he asked, before he could stop himself. He was nervous of the answer. His fingers twined like vines or thread, so much so that you were worried he wasn't going to get them untangled.

“I just got held up at work a little. Nothing serious.”

He was trying to be calm, but his eyes flashed red in disobedience. A long, jilted sigh came through his nose. “Yeah I suppose that's alright," he said, but it quite clearly wasn't. He was seething.

“Kent, I swear that's all that happened.”

“I believe you," he said, although from the strained tone in his voice suggested otherwise. You sat down next to him and watched him rub his eyes in frustration, hoping to wipe any signs of his double.

“I just-” he began, and looked to you for comfort. You placed your hand on his back and rubbed it. “I trust you. And I know what you say is true, but I still feel..." he paused, and the stutter in his speech came paired with a gulp in this throat. "I still get thoughts."

Your hand stilled, and you leant forward in your seat to gauge his expreesion.

"Thoughts? Like what?"

He turned to you with a clear frown, equally as nervous as it looked quilty. "That you might be spending time with someone else."

With a deep exhale and a short-lived smile you nuzzled into his shoulder. In all honesty, you thought his answer was going to be more concerning, so you were quite happy to hear it was just run-of-the-mill jealousy.

"Well, I'm not."

He tilted his head to rest on yours, and you responded by untwining one of his arms from the other and pulling it into your chest.

"I know," he said. "It doesn't make sense, does it?"

You shook your head, smiled up at him, and brushed a hand through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, and the tension eased out of his shoulders so quick it was almost dramatic. "It makes no sense, but..." he started, and then looked at you. "I still can't help but feel like if I lost you now, it would be the worst thing to happen to me.”

His response humbled you with its sincerity. For a second, you were so at such a loss of words that the only thing to break the silence was the everpresent whoosh of the wind and snow, rapping at your window and gathering around the pane. To say that Kent had met a lot of difficulty in his life was an understatement; the fact he put your loss above every single one of them meant more to you then you could untangle into one emotion.

"Pretty pathetic, huh?"

With a blink, you snapped out of it, and shook your head ferverently. “Kent, I promise you couldn't lose me if you tried," you said, and placed your face against his back. You continued in a hushed whisper, and he felt you smiling against his collarbone. “Besides, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. Just between the two of us, I think your jealousy is kind of hot.”

Kent smiled too. Although you couldn't see, his eyes flashed a bright, sultry red again.

“In what way?” he asked, and suddenly had to resist the urge to hide his face in embarassement from the salacious grin you gave him in return.

“It really turns me on.”

Both of his eyes were fire.

“Do you know what you're doing?” he asked. He wasn't asking out of curiosity, but for permission.

“Would you like to find out?”

In response, he stared at you, completely entranced by the subtle and innocent curve of your face down to your bare neck.

“Yes," he answered, and pushed you beneath him. His looming form coloured your vision and blocked the dim, evening sun, while his lean, defined forearms caged your face on either side. He started nipping (lightly grabbing your skin with his teeth) and although you tried to wriggle to have some more control, he grasped both of your hands in one and nailed them above your head.

“Kent,” you said, through the dizzy haze in your head.

Instead of answering properly, he tightened his grip on your arms.

“It feels invigorating,” he said, and trailed off, almost hissing into your ear, “to do this to you," he whispered in the other.

Grazing his lips against your ears, he moved down into your chest and pulled your shirt off so the buttons flew in different directions. He threw it onto the floor with the hand that wasn't occupied by pinning down your hands. In turn, you felt the cold air hit your chest and recoiled with whatever muscles he wasn't keeping immobile under his weight.

He laughed, and the voice of the other Kent laced it. Both of them were enjoying this.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked sarcastically, and you almost wanted to knock him in the stomach with your knee before his smile leant down to your stomach, placing feathery kisses onto it's skin so lightly that you could barely feel them. He pulled away for only a second and pulled the bed sheets over the both of your body, and you sighed in relief as the sharp face of cold air receded into warmth.

As he made eye contact, you saw his eyes as red and blue. Kent's fingers were warm, and he trailed his fingers further and further down along your side, scratching his nails into your skin.

You could feel fire: a savage lust and possessiveness that he could only feel for you, burning up, tearing at his insides; wanting to escape, to engulf you in hot bright flames until the both of you had burnt out. And further.

He then nuzzled his nose into your chest again, feeling like he couldn't love you enough to compensate for the mere fact that you existed. That you came back every night and were there to talk to him. That the world had somehow lined up so perfectly that he ended up with you right now, right here.

An ocean, a wide expanse of deep blue, a calm and steady shore with depth for love and depth for its shallow conversation, as well as a depth large enough for the most complex version of understanding.

“I love you.” Kent said, and it sounded just as sweet and raw as the first time he confessed.

“I want you," he continued, and you dared not doubt him.


End file.
